John Bennison

There is that ritual re-enactment in the Christian faith tradition of spiritually healing with some balm, of sorts. It’s known as the oil of Chrism. Traditionally, it’s a blend of olive oil and balsam.

I began to write this reflection on a historic Monday in January, when Donald Trump was sworn into office as our president on the same day our nation observed the annual commemoration of the life and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Nowadays, the most obvious current flashpoints are the Israeli/Palestinian and Russia/Ukrainian conflicts. Turf wars by either dreams of empire, or religiously inspired claims of a so-called “promised land,” are nothing new. Just peruse the history books or biblical scriptures.

“The lack of everlasting peace in the Holy Land is a deeply complex issue, rooted in a combination of historical, religious, cultural, political, and social factors.”

It’s that time of year when the natural order of all things brings with it the repeated reminder that former things are passing away. And, at the same time, I watch the evening news broadcast these days with more than a bit of circumspection – if not resignation – that nothing about each successive episode in our human story ever changes; except the names, faces and places.

Now, some political postulators might question this one particular candidate’s ability to distinguish fact from fiction, truth from falsehood, honesty from dishonesty. But the same thing might be said of some religious types, as well.

There is the rather staid term used to describe a form of worship in the Christian faith tradition, known as ‘liturgy.’ It comes from two Greek words, translated as the “work” of the “people.” For decades, I used to remind a flock of worshippers that an hour spent on a Sunday morning was only a rehearsal for what they were called to practice and live out the rest of the week. 

Blind obedience to someone vested with authority can lead to something else that we’re hearing a lot about these days; namely, authoritarianism.

We live in a world of what I sometimes describe as disproportionate parity, where the ancient version of justice (lex talionis) that’s still widely practiced today provides justification for an excessive retaliatory response.

For context to the comments to follow, it is suggested one read Matthew 13. Verses 1-8 are deemed to likely be attributable to the historical Jesus; while verses 18-23 are an interpretation and application by Matthew’s early church community.

In the context of the Christian faith tradition — is the “good news” that one might assert to be at the heart of the gospel message just too idealistic for what we might be able to instead empirically see happening all around us on a daily basis?

As I’m writing this commentary, the news is filled with chatter about another anniversary observance of January sixth. It’s not about the liturgical religious observance known as the Epiphany, of course; but the third-year anniversary of those days surrounding the political insurrection in our nation’s Capital.

Decades ago, I wrote a blessing prayer for this season that began with a reference to nothing but a flicker of hope in “the fading glory of these autumn days, when night creeps early on to darkness; and leaves us, bound in shadows, longing for the light.” And yet, it remains that flicker of hope that I want to write about.

At the heart of the Christian tradition, we say there is “faith (πίστις, ‘pistis’ Gr. - trust), hope (ἐλπίς, Gr. elpis = meaning expectation, in a positive sense), and love ( ἀγάπη Gr. ‘agapé’ ‘love’ or φιλανθρωπία Gr. ‘caritas’ = charity).

A recent essay by a contemporary theologian I respect, David Galston, recently began with this observation: “One of the struggles that defines our humanity is the struggle over facts and opinions.”

When all is said and done, what then are we to make of the mythic tale of Jesus’ death and resurrection, metaphorically told to convey what all of us might like to assert to be the “gospel truth?”

It is stories like this one that reminds me that a living Jesus — Jesus the optimistic contrarian — still walks among us in many guises; to tell and retell those human tales of how to truly live, with hope for this world.

I believe the “treasure in heaven” to which Jesus refers is a harvest to be planted and reaped from the dust of earth; with Jesus’ vision of a heaven on earth being the seed to be sown in the field of impermanence.

So, if thoughts and prayers (of petition or intercession) cannot produce any salvific change when uttered to an imagined divine – who for anyone with eyes to see, or ears to hear is too deaf, indifferent or impotent to intercede — then with whom can we bargain, or utter any plea for help?

Even 150 years ago, it would appear the question of how much freedom was too much freedom was a debate with which our forebears had to wrestle. Their assertions were based on their divergent understandings of what the notion of freedom accorded them under our national constitution.

“He (Jesus) knew what they were thinking and said to them, ‘Every kingdom divided against itself is laid waste, and no city or house divided against itself will stand.”Mt. 12:25

The lack of reasonable restrictions when it comes to guns is rooted in their obvious appeal; leading to their preponderance in staggering numbers in a culture that allows utter unreasonableness to pose under the guise of “protection of freedom” and individual rights. That’s why we will not simply legislate our way out of this one through reasonable debate, a half-baked compromise, or a better argument. As a society, we love our guns, and what they represent.

Periodically, it is helpful to remember that belief and faith are not the same thing.  Every group of mortals seems to inevitably gather around a particular set of beliefs; presumably based on the values they hold to be the most meaningful to them, or of greatest importance.

When asked in later years how I received my calling to ordained ministry, I used to joke that the burning bush for me was an incinerated draft card.  But with a last name like ‘Bennison,’ (an old English word for ‘blessing,’ or ‘benediction)’ and the first name John (from the Greek"Ἰωάννης" or Hebrew "Yôḥānān" meaning ‘graced by God)’ what else was I to do with my life?